Sickness and Obsession
by SkyFire2
Summary: Takes place roughly 2-3 weeks after "Arwen Strikes Again." When someone in the Fellowship gets sick, is it just natural, or something more...? *g* Please R/R.


Sickness and Obsession  
by SkyFire  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were, 'specially delicious Elf-lords. *g*  
  
A/N: 1)This has a couple of references to my Glorfindel stories, but does stand alone. You don't   
need to read those to understand this. That being said, go and read them anyway! For me? *g*  
  
2)I wrote this when I had a cold. Why should I have to suffer alone? Luckily, he gets it   
worse than I did. *g*  
  
3)It'll help if you read Legolas' speech out loud, as I wrote it phonetically for reasons that   
will become apparent when you get to them. *g*  
  
4)This fic taken place roughly 2-3 weeks after "Arwen Strikes Again." (In the book, the journey   
between Rivendell and Caradhras was about 40 days) Itching powders/nettles have worn off and   
Gimli is mostly un-dyed, though still a bit blue-tinged in places. *g*  
  
Please leave a review! Please? Pretty please with Legolas on top? No, wait, I'm *keeping* him...  
*g* Anyway, that being said, I'd like at least 10 reviews. Please? *g*  
  
*****  
Sickness and Obsession  
by SkyFire  
  
The weather was good. It had been since they left Rivendell on the beginning of their Quest.   
The days were warm, and if the nights had a chill bite to them, at least it was dry most of the   
time. The last rain had come and gone a week before, and even the nights had been warm since   
then.  
  
All of which made it all the more unbelievable when the coughing fit erupted from one of the   
members of the Fellowship. The other eight members turned in disbelief and stared in the   
direction of the harsh coughs, which were now joined by sniffles. All were surprised at this   
occurrence, especially considering the origin.  
  
Legolas stood there, coughing convulsively into one hand, dabbing at his nose with the other.  
  
"Uh, Legolas?" Aragorn said, "you *are* aware that Elves are not supposed to get sick, aren't   
you?"  
  
The coughing fit trailed off, but the sniffling remained. The Elf glared at the Ranger. "Yeth,   
*I* node dat. You dry tellig *id* dat," he said stuffily. He sniffled.  
  
"Here," Merry said, offering a kerchief. "For the nose."  
  
"Dank you," Legolas said. He took the cloth and blew his nose. "Aragorn, mebbe dere are sobe   
plands you can gibe me for dis?"  
  
Aragorn nodded. "Yes, but it will have to wait a few hours until we camp for the day. Can you   
hold out?"  
  
The Elf leveled a glare at the Ranger that should have quartered him where he stood, even   
lessened as it was by puffy eyes and reddened nose.  
  
"Or we could just decide to camp here," Aragorn said quickly, backing away a step.  
  
The remaining seven quickly seconded the idea; not even the wizard Gandalf was foolhardy enough   
to tempt the sick Elf's wrath by suggesting moving on.  
  
The eight non-Elves quickly set up camp as Legolas watched from where he sat on a rock, wrapped   
in his blankets, shivering.  
  
At last, Aragorn approached the sniffling one. "Legolas, besides the nose and the cough, how are   
you feeling?" he asked. "Does anything else hurt?"  
  
Legolas shivered miserably. "Ow am I feelig? I'm code, my droat urts and I'm shakig all ober.   
Dat's ow I'm feelig." He glared, broke off into coughs.  
  
Aragorn nodded. He pat the Elf comfortingly on one shoulder, then went to his pack for   
medicines. He mixed up a concoction that smelled horrible and would probably taste even worse,   
then carried it over to the Elf.  
  
"Here," he said, offering the mug. "This should help."  
  
Legolas took the mug, tried to sniff the contents but his nose was too stuffed. With a grimace,   
he drank down the whole cupful, then handed it back to the Ranger.  
  
"Do you have any idea why this happened, Legolas?" the Ranger asked.  
  
Legolas shot a glare at one member of the group. "I'm nod sure. Bud id's probally de dwarb.   
Eberybody knows dwarbes are bull ob sdrange didseases. He probally did dis to me. He's a dwarb,   
afder all."  
  
"Now, Legolas," Aragorn said, "I'm sure Gimli has nothing to do with this."  
  
Now the Elf's glare was focused on the Ranger. "You're sure? Ow? *You* did dis to me, den?   
And what I jusd drank, did you poison me more? My fader will-"  
  
"Calm down," Aragorn said. "And no, I didn't try to poison you. You've known me long enough to   
know better than that, Legolas. You're imagining things. You should sleep now, and rest to get   
better."  
  
"Sleeb? Wid dat dwarb dryig to kill me? I can't sleeb-" the Elf broke off abruptly, yawning.   
"I'm so sleeby all ob a sudden. Aragorn? Whad did you do?"  
  
"I did not poison you," Aragorn repeated. "But it will send you to sleep."  
  
"Aragorn!" came the last protesting mumble as the herbs send Legolas to sleep, to the relief of   
the rest of the company. They watched as Aragorn gently lowered the Elf to the ground and tucked   
the blankets snugly around him, even as the sun rose in a wash of golden light.  
  
  
  
Legolas awoke the next evening coughless and sniffle-less, apparently fully recovered, to the   
relief of all.  
  
The nine broke camp after a hobbit-prepared breakfast and began the night's journey.  
  
All that evening, Aragorn kept darting glances at the Elf, keeping a watchful eye on his   
condition. He saw the other occasionally bend to pick something from bushes as they passed,   
eating the fruits of his labors.  
  
By early morning, though, Legolas wasn't looking very well. His step was wobbly and unsure,   
sweat sheened his pale face and dampened his hair. The coughs and sniffles had returned.  
  
By false dawn it was plain to the Ranger that the Elf could go no further that night. Luckily,   
they'd already got in the whole night's march and it was time to stop for the day anyway.  
  
Legolas dropped where he stood at the decision to make camp. He barely had the energy to pull   
his cloak around him, never mind his still-packed blankets. He looked over, shivering, as   
Aragorn approached.  
  
"You're not well, my friend," Aragorn said.  
  
Legolas had to wait for a coughing fit to pass before replying. "I node. Dat dwarb is sdill   
tryig to kill me. He is bery sdneaky. I neber eben wen' *near* him all night."  
  
Aragorn mixed up some more of the same concoction he'd made for the Elf the day before, gave it   
to him. "I spoke to him. He says he didn't do it, Legolas."  
  
"Ob *courdze* he does," the Elf said, rolling his eyes. He sniffled. "You don' tink he would   
*admid* id, do you? Sdneaky dwarbes."  
  
"I believe him," Aragorn said. He looked to the Elf. "What is it you were picking and eating   
while we walked? I saw nothing that was good to eat."  
  
"Wade a midute. You're nod sayig dat *I*-"  
  
"All I'm saying is that maybe you might be mistaken about what you were eating; the plants here   
do not grow in the Mirkwood." He watched as Legolas drank what he had been given.   
  
"Dose berries *are* good to ead. I *know* dey are."  
  
"How is it that you know they are safe to eat?"  
  
"Arwen tode me," Legolas answered. Then he seemed to hear his own words. His eyes first widened   
as realization set in, then closed as he squinched them shut. "No," he moaned. "No." He felt   
his face heat from embarrassment.  
  
Aragorn watched Legolas blush to the tips of his ears and the roots of his hair. He chuckled   
grimly. "Did she tell you of the berries before or after the council?"  
  
The Elf looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole to save him from his   
embarrassment. "Afder," came the mumbled reply.  
  
"Legolas, Legolas, Legolas," Aragorn said. "You surprise me. You still believed what she said,   
even after what she did to you?"  
  
"I neber thought," came the response. His eyes opened. "Aragorn, you habe to promidze. Don'   
tell de dwarb."  
  
"Legolas, you have to apologise for saying that he was the one who poisoned you."  
  
"No, Aragorn. I candt. Please. Don't tell de dwarb."  
  
"Don't tell the dwarf what?" Gimli asked gruffly. He looked to Aragorn. "The food is ready."   
He looked down at the still-red Elf. "Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked.  
  
"No," came the quick reply.  
  
"Legolas," Aragorn said warningly. "Tell him."  
  
Legolas sighed, feeling put-upon. He looked to the dwarf. "I'm sorry dat I said dat you had   
poisoned me," he said at last, grudgingly.  
  
"Ah!" Gimli said. "So you know who the real culprit is, do you?"  
  
Legolas nodded. "Arwen," he growled.  
  
Whatever was to come on their long journey, Legolas knew two things for certain. First, it would   
be long and long again before he even *thought* of eating another berry. And second, Arwen was   
going to regret her actions against the Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
Legolas slept that day, smiling, even chuckling in his sleep. His unconscious laughter sent   
chills all through all that heard it.  
  
  
END  
  
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